


We’re The Losers Club

by StarKkid



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alvin Marsh is a Dick, BAMF Beverly Marsh, BAMF Richie Tozier, Hurt Richie Tozier, Losers Club (IT) Friendship, Other, POV Beverly, Richie Needs to Learn When to Shut Up, Richie Tozier Needs a Hug, Richie Tozier is a Good Friend, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 13:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20706902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarKkid/pseuds/StarKkid
Summary: OR: The Beverly and her dad bathroom scene goes a bit differently when a certain Trashmouth gets involved and doesn’t know when to shut up.





	We’re The Losers Club

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! I’m terribly sorry if there’s any spelling/grammar errors. I do all my writing off my phone and I don’t have a beta
> 
> The first bit of this is pretty much exactly what happens in the movie as I didn’t want to brush over it.  
I was curious what would happen if the gang had come over when Beverly’s dad was about to attack her and because Richie is my favourite I love causing him pain.  
Hence, this!

Beverly woke up this morning on a mission. She was sick of the gang being apart – over her dead body were they going to separate and let this clown tear them away from each other when they needed each other most. Today was the day she would bring them back together. Get the Loser Club back.  
Yesterday, she spent all day hunting down each loser – went to the arcade to grab Richie, waited outside the chemist for what seemed like hours for Eddie to stop by, the school library for Ben, the farm house for Mike, and snuck out the back yard of Bill and Stan’s house to stop them on their way home from school. She told each of them the same thing – “Bill wants to apologise.” Or, in Bill’s case – “Richie wants to apologise.” She knew that would work because in a way, even if Bev didn’t personally think it, each loser blamed Bill for their current situation. It was his idea to go to Niebolt, where it all went down hill, and after some convincing, she got them all to agree to meet her house with their bikes, and from there they would track to the Barrens. Once there, she’d figure out the rest. She hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. 

After her morning shower, some quick breakfast and getting changed in her signature dress, it was now 8:53am – 7 minutes before she told the gang to meet her down the stairs of her apartment. Each member thought THEY were the one picking Bev up and riding her to the Barrens (another one of her great plans to get them together, which now she thinks about it – maybe not so great) So she had to make sure she was down there in time to break up any arguments. 

She swung her bag over her shoulder, and headed to the door. The TV still blaring the same sports channel it was last night when her dad passed out on the couch. The lights were off, so Bev was certain he was still passed out. As she placed her hand on the door handle, she noticed something off. Panic shot through her entire body. A large padlock lodged in between the lock, securing it closed. She couldn’t get out this way. 

Why would there be a lock on the door?

Almost on instinct, Bev slowly turned around to face her fathers signature chair, to find him, of course, not asleep. She sat in the dark, the shadows coating his face in a menacing glow. 

“Where are you going dressed like that, Bevvie?” He asked, an almost venom to his voice.

“This is my dress, daddy. I wear this almost every day…” she was almost a professional at hiding the fear in her voice by this point. She was already strategically thinking her way out of this scenario, her eyes glancing to windows, and then to the table where she noticed the keys. She glanced at the clock – 8:55. She still had 5 minutes. 

He signalled for her to come closer, a swift flick with his fingers. She obeyed. She didn’t dare argue with him, not knowing how he would react. 

“I’m hearing stories, Bevvie. About you.” He gripped her hand as she instinctively placed it in his open palm, loving and caring at first. “About you spending all summer with a group of boys..” His eyes squinted at that statement, his grip tightening only slightly, almost unnoticeable. 

“They’re just friends, Daddy, I swear.” Bev could see where this was going, and she knew she had to sweet talk her way out of this before it escalated. “It’s nothing.”

“Just friends? Then what’s this…” with a tilt of his head, her father held up the blood stained postcard she held so dearly. She still didn’t know who wrote it, but it was the first time anyone had taken their time to treat her with respect. With love. It was the action that meant the most to her – not the words. But her father didn’t see it that way.

“It’s just a poem…” she begged, hoping her father would believe her and let her go. Like that would ever happen. 

“Just a poem?” A small sarcastic tone in his voice, as if pretending that made everything okay. Then his signature glare returned. His hand gripping onto Bev’s tightly. “Then why was it in your underwear drawer?” 

Bev didn’t even question why he was looking in there to begin with. She knew the answer, she didn’t need a verbal response for it. As she tried to pull her hand away, she noticed his got tighter, the force nearly being enough to dislocate her pinky out of place. 

“Why would you have to hide it there?!” Ah there he was. This was truly her father. None of that pretending bullshit, like he cared. This is who he was. Abusive. Dominant. Assertive. “Are you still my little girl?” Nearly threatening her at this point. 

Bev doesn’t know what came over her, Why she thought this was a good idea. But she was sick and tired of being treated like garbage. She just stabbed a fucking psychotic clown in the face for Christ’s sake! She can take on her own father. “No..” she said with determination. Today’s the day she stands up for herself.

Her father looked taken aback, truly not expecting that response. “What did you say?”

Bev mustered up all the courage she could and with one big act of defiance, “I said, NO!” She shouted in his face. Her expression changing from fear to fearless. She gave her hand one last tug, and at that same time he must’ve loosened his grip, as Bev came crashing down with the momentum, toppling over the ironing board and scattering on the ground. 

She didn’t dare give her dad any second of power longer than necessary on her front, quickly spinning to lay on her back, looking up at him but being able to see every movement. She quickly regretted it. Instantly her dad stalked towards her, fire in his eyes. She tried to shuffle back as quick and far as she could, knowing there wasn’t anywhere for her to go. Her dad was quickly on top of her, grabbing her kicking legs and pinning himself on top of her. Bev just wanted to get out of here. She couldn’t help but think of the boys downstairs, all probably yelling at each other. They’ve all most likely left at this point – no one even knowing what’s going on. A part of Bev wished that were true. She would much rather have them downstairs, oblivious and not in danger.

“Do those boys know that you’re my-“ whack. It was the only thing she could think of. She kicked her dad in the dick. It truly was one if men’s biggest weaknesses. And then to seal if off, one last kick to the face. 

Her dad was off her now, kneeling on the ground groaning in pain. Bev took this as her moment to dash. Remembering the lock on the door, she ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Fuck. Now what was she going to do? She was 5 stories up, climbing out the window wasn’t an option. Fuck fuck fuck. Trying to delay herself as much time as possible, she climbed into the bathtub, pulling the shower curtain closed, as if she was a kid again – hiding under the covers from a monster. Only this time the covers were the shower curtains and the monster was her father.

After a few seconds, she heard the heavy footsteps of her dad getting up, and making his way down the hall. He was headed right for the bathroom. Today’s the day that Beverly Marshall dies – or worse. 

There was silence, and Bev held her breathe, waiting for the large crash of the door to come tumbling down. But instead..

/knock knock knock/ 

Silence. Confusion. 

No one ever visited them? Her dad didn’t have friends. He was the town drunk. 

She didn’t hear footsteps either, her dad was probably just as confused. 

/knock knock/ 

Again. Silence. 

And then, the worst sound Bev had ever heard in her entire life. 

“Beverly! You okay in there?” That was Richie.

“It’s Eddie and Richie. We heard some shouting..” Eddie.

Oh no. Fuck no. This was not good. They had come looking for her when she didn’t show. 

Bev clenched her eyes shut, hoping this was all one big dream. She didn’t need to see her dad to know what he was thinking. 

He heard his footsteps again, this time, getting softer. He was walking away. Walking towards the door. 

Maybe he would just leave them alone? Tell them she wasn’t home, so he could then continue whatever it was he was about to do.

Bev would honestly prefer that. She doesn’t want her friends getting involved.

Bev heard the sound of the creaky door opening, and some muffled voices, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying, she was too far away. Taking a deep breathe, and realising that she may need to intervene to help her friends, Bev stepped out of the tub, making her way to the door.

She ever-so-slowly opened it, making sure to make any noise to alert her dad, and her friends, that she was there, and tip-toed her way down the hall, stopping just as she reached the living room. Leaning on the wooden wall, close enough to hear the conversation but out of sight.

“Richie, come on, we should leave.” Eddie said in an assertive yet panicked voice. Beverly couldn’t tell if Eddie genuinely was just terrified of her dad (she wouldn’t blame him) or whether they had clued in to what was happening and Eddie, being the smart one of those 2, realised they may need to get back up. Especially since her only had one good arm.

“No! I wanna know what this fuck face has done to Bev!” Bev thought It was very sweet that Richie was standing up for her and being concerned, but fucking hell he was being an idiot about it. Just go!

“Richie.” Eddie nagged, clearly being able to see that the Trashmouth was crossing the line and his mouth was about to get him in trouble. Eddie was always the one that would be able to talk some sense into Richie – Beverly prayed today would be no different.

“Are you the boys taking my Bevvie from me?” 

“YOUR Bevvie? Look, sicko – I don’t know how to break it to you, but even if this was a consensual relationship, which clearly it isn’t, nobody wants to belong to anyone who hasn’t had a shower in a about 2 weeks and breath smells like they’ve been licking out assholes all night!”

Bev swears she’s never heard a more silent room in her life. No one said anything. Bev could only imagine the sight – Eddie staring at Richie in disbelief, a small fake smile on his face as if trying to make up for what Richie had said with his sweet face, Richie standing tall and proud, clearly not realising how he just fucked this up, and her dad with a calm expression, menacing and bubbling underneath. Bev had to do something, and she had to do it now.

“What did you say, boy?”

“Dad, wait-“ Bev came charging out from the behind the wall, running at her dad, unsure of what she was going to do but she’ll figure that part out. Not even a second has passed, and all broke loose.

Not even glancing in her direction, her dad raised his arm and backhanded Bev across the face, sending her crashing down on the hard floor, her eyes watering instantly and her hand shooting up to clutch her already red and stinging cheek. She could taste copper on her tongue. Probably a busted lip, but that was the least of her worries. 

“Beverly!” They shouted at the same time.

The 2 losers jumped into defence mode, but they barely had a chance to get a word in before her dad sprung into action. 

His hand reached forward, gripping Richie by the collar of his pink Hawaiian shirt and tugging him into the room with them. With him. Richie letting out a small gasp with the sudden jerk. Richie may have had a large mouth and spoke like an adult, but he was still a kid. Getting manhandled by an adult was an unfair fight.

Bev could hear Eddie shout to Richie, see him reaching his arm forward to grab the back of his shirt and pull him back, but he was too late. Her dad was too fast. In the same second that he had pulled Richie into the room, he shoved Eddie backwards, his back landing with a thump against the wall behind him, and slammed the door shut. Releasing Richie long enough to lock it back up.

As he was released, Richie ran straight to Bev, kneeling down beside her to check on the damage. “You okay?” His eyes were wide with concern, his hand resting softly against her cheek, being sure not to touch the wound. Bev just nodded. “I’m gonna kill this fuck head.” Richie stated, starting to stand up to face the man. Bev wished her mouth moved faster, because she would have warned Richie he was right behind him, but all that came up was a small “Ri-“ before the raven haired boy turned straight into the thick chest of her dad, a hand clamping down hard on his hair, adding pressure. Richie’s hands immediately shot up to his hair, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his scalp, preying the mans fingers apart to no avail.

“You the boy taking my Bevvie away from me?!” He repeated, a much thicker anger in his tone. Beverly could hear a pounding against their door, most likely Eddie trying to break back in. Good luck with that. They were stuck here for the time being. Bev had to jump in, fast.

“No, Daddy! He’s not. No one is, I swear-“ Once again, a strong hand came crashing down against the side of her face, the same side as before and Beverly could feel the cut in her lip get wider, her right eye closing slightly as it started swelling up. Her dad never broke his eye contact from Richie.

“You fucking touch her one more time and I’m gonna shove my foot so far up your dick-“ He was thrashing about like crazy trying desperately to break the hold on his head, his arms and legs swinging towards her father every now and then, trying to get a shot in, but her dad held him too far out, and with his much smaller in comparison frame, he couldn’t land any blows. Her dad could though.

With one quick movement, cutting off Richie’s sentence, his closed fist found Richie’s face..

Beverly could head a crack, and she wasn’t sure whether it was Richie’s glasses or his nose. Richie went quiet for a second, a tad limp, and if Bev still wasn’t so dazed from just being hit in the head twice, she would’ve shouted out to him. Richie had taken several hits to the face in his time, courtesy of his loud mouth, but those were all from kids. This was a grown adult taking advantage of a weaker kid. Her dad never released his grip on Richie head, now using his other free hand to grip Richie’s jaw firmly, forcing the kid the look at him. 

“I’m the only one allowed to touch her, you hear me?” He was shaking him roughly, Richie could feel the bruises forming on his cheeks already. He was struggling to breathe – why was he struggling to breathe? Suddenly, her dad shoved Richie aside, the kid landing on the ground with a hard thud, unable to break his fall.

Bev glanced over at him, her mind still spinning and her ears ringing. Richie’s hand went up to wipe his nose, and Bev saw so much blood. It was pouring down his face, into his mouth, dripping on his shirt – definitely a broken nose. His glasses had a crack running down the left lens, and were barely on his face anymore. Bev felt so guilty – she was the reason they were al here to begin with. Richie would have been spending the day in an arcade or something had she not tried to play hero and get the band back together.

Bev felt a tight grip on her ankle, and suddenly was getting tugged, away from Richie on the floor. “No.” She managed to say, fumbling on the ground to find something to grab, anything! Kicking her legs weakly.

Richie must’ve been used to taking a hit, because in no time at all, the loser had gotten up and jumped onto the mans back, attempting a choke hold or something to get him away from Beverly. It managed to work, as the grip on her ankle released, and Beverly’s head finally stopped ringing long enough for her to scramble backwards, using the wall to help herself stand.

Richie was very persistent. He clung on tight, managing to avoid her fathers hand trying to grab him. He was shouting profanities wildly - in any other situation it probably would’ve been hilarious to see. “Cock sucker!” “Child abusing asshole!” “Fuckta-“ He was cut off with all the air in his lungs leaving his body when he was slammed up against a wall, stuck between the wood and Bev’s dad. It was hard enough to breathe with a broken nose, he didn’t need the air literally leaving his lungs as well. He let go, and slid down the wall, sitting on the floor in a heap as he tried to catch his breathe again. “Fuck… you…” He said in between breathes. Bev couldn’t help but applaud his consistency. 

Her father stared deadpanned at Richie for what seemed like forever, a blank expression plastering his face, and with no time to react, fists came flying down. Richie tried to cover himself when he saw the first one aimed for his face, but the second one got him in the gut causing him to heap over and expose his face once again, giving her dad the perfect opportunity for a cheek hit. Richie glasses when flying across the floor with the impact, fists pummelling down one after another.

“Daddy!” She screamed, racing over to protect her friend. “Stop!!” She tried grabbing his arms, trying to stop them before they made impact, but she wasn’t strong enough, only able to delay the blows a few milliseconds before he yanked his arms back. He was ignoring her, his attention only on the small cowering boy below him. Bevs vision started getting blurry and she realised she was crying, sobbing in fact. “Leave him alone!” She wouldn’t give up. 

Bev looked around the room, trying to find anything she could use. As she did this, she heard a thudding noise again. Looking towards the door, it was moving slightly, like someone banging on it. Eddie! He’s still trying to get in! 

In a split second, Bev ran to the table grabbing the keys for the lock, and stumbled to the door, trying to go as fast as she could. She mentally cheered herself for not dropping the keys like a typical movie character would have, and she successfully managed to undo the lock, swinging the door open. Her father totally oblivious. 

As the door swung open, there stood the greatest sight she could have imagined. All 5 remaining losers – concern and anger plastering their faces. Bill acted first, being the first to notice the movement in the corner of Bev’s dad attacking a small figure. He charged in, rage in his voice and laid one swift punch in his kidneys, causing her dad to grunt out. 

Eddie followed after, using his small frame to his advantage and jumping the mans back – a tactic he probably learnt from Richie. Soon after all the Losers were in. Ben straight to Bev to check on her, knowing the odds were definitely in there favour right now, whilst Stan and Mike charged over to help Richie, now that the blows had finally stopped.

There was so much commotion, Bev could barely keep up with it all. She could hear Ben talking to her, asking if she was alright, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what to do. She needed to stop this. Bill and Eddie were managing to hold him off, but she could see that Eddie was slipping, not being able to hold on with his bad arm, and that would leave Bill exposed. She had to act fast. 

Pushing Ben to the side and mentally making a note to apologise for it later, she shot up and darted away – past the commotion.

“You want to fucking mess with us you turd!” Eddie’s high pitch shriek. 

“F-f-fuck you!” A grunt as Bill landed another blow in his gut.

“You ugly piece of shit!” Was that Stan? Bev would’ve chuckled if it was. 

The losers were so focused on the larger man, they didn’t notice Bev. Not until she came back, anyway. Her dad spun around, trying to get a hold of Eddie still clinging onto his back, and was met with the shattering force of the toilet cover on his temple. Bits of it scattering around the room.

He went down, hard. A clump on the floor, blood immediately oozing from his head. The losers stared at the body – silent. Did Beverly just kill her father? They each held their breathes. 

Suddenly, a small groan came, followed by the rising and falling of his chest. He was alive. Lucky bastard. 

As soon as they let out a sigh of relief, Richie groaned from behind them. “Poetic.” He barely managed to say. Every loser instantly running to him, kneeling beside him. Stan and Mike had managed to prop him up so he was leaning against the floor, seated on the ground. There was a bloody piece of cloth next to him, and Beverly noted that a part of Mike’s shirt had been ripped, using it to wipe up the blood off Richie. 

“Oh my god Richie-“ “Are you okay?” “Can you move?!” “We need to clean this up before you get infected-“

“Can you princesses stop crowding me. I mean, I know you love me and all but at least take me for dinner first.” He croaked in between wheezes and grunts. His voice was nasally due to his broken nose, and his eyes couldn’t quite focus on anything due to a 100% concussion. Also, he lost his glasses.

His lip was busted, and blood smeared his face, into his hair and down his shirt. But he managed a smile, because of course he did. 

Beverly pushed her way through the crowd, being face to face with Richie, placing a comforting hand on his knee, one of the only places that didn’t look like it hurt. “You didn’t have to do that, Richie.” She genuinely was at a loss of words. Her whole life she had been bullied, treated like shit and used, and yet here was this scrawny kid in glasses, who pretty much risked his life for her. Fighting demon clowns as a group was one thing – but defending your friend against a grown man when your life wasn’t in any danger, that was something else. 

“Of course I did. We’re the fucking Losers Club.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Please leave comments on what else you want to see!


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